The Absence of Heat
by Lady Sanna
Summary: Lately, the proximity of where he would stand when they would be speaking was closer, the casual touches seemed to linger, and even his teasing sexual innuendos had become more frequent. OneShot. MSR.


**Warning  
**Do not repost this on another site without my knowledge or without my consent, and most definitely, do not repost this on another site as your own. Plagiarizers are warned.

**A/N**  
I wanted to write a fic partly in celebration of my birthday on 3/13, and also because I wanted another _3 AM_ concept fic; thus, _The Absence of Heat_ was born. It has a lot more detail, a little more story, and is a lot longer than its predecessor. So, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I had writing it.

_Special thanks to my cousin/beta Jess for helping me with this story. Danke schön meine Kusine!_

**_The Absence of Heat  
_**Lady Sanna

11:54 PM

Shaking, Scully pulled the thick blankets up from the end of the bed and wrapped them around her small frame. It was extremely cold during the winter season in DC, and she felt that her California roots never got used to the frigid temperatures of the East Coast. Suddenly, recollections of her childhood at the beach came flooding back to her quiet repose, and she smiled. It was probably one of the only times that her family was whole. Now, she didn't exactly know what had happened. Maybe, she thought, it was because they grew up, turned to different routes, and sought different ideals.

She shook her head slowly against the comfort of her pillow and settled back into a comfortable position. Maybe it was because of her and the choices she made. After all, they were counting on her to become a doctor, marry a nice guy, have a plethora of children, and live a sincere life—The American Dream. But that was not what she wanted. Living under the iron fist of her father and under the intense over-protectiveness of her brother caused her to want an escape which would lead her to her own separate life.

Mulder was her escape.

Again, she shook her head. That man, she thought, a tight smile tugging at her lips, that man and seven years of everything but the customary. God, the things they went through, the places they went to, the things they saw. It was hardly believable, explainable, rational in the realms of science, but it had become fascination, and she loved it.

Looking at the clock now, she realized that she had better stop mulling over her life story and fall asleep soon. She would most likely need the extra energy to fend for her partner in front of their superior of why he was constantly behind schedule. And Mulder wondered why she went to bed early every night. If only he knew.

A half-hour later, Scully re-awoke. Although she was completely buried under the heavy comforter, she could feel her body trembling even more then the first time she awoke. Fed up, she flung the blankets aside and made her way to the thermostat. It's readings for the present room temperature was 46 degrees. Somehow, seeing those numbers caused her senses to register the cold even more. She pushed the 'up' arrow a few times and switched it to 'heat'. Thankful to find that there was a quick solution to her problem, she climbed back into her bed.

About a minute later, her house phone rang. She let out a frustrated sigh, wondering if it was Mulder or some drunkard, and picked it up.

"Scully."

"Ms. Scully? It's Mr. Coeben, your landlord. Sorry to bother you, but I have some bad news," he reported.

At the sound of those words, she sat up in bed, fully alert. "What is it?"

"Well, I don't know how to say this, but…"

"But what?"

"…The heater, it's broken."

Scully's grip on the phone tightened immensely. "I'm sorry?"

"The heater system has overheated, as funny as that may sound," he chuckled trying to lighten things up, "but not to worry, I have already called in a repairman."

Her grasp slackened. "Oh good, so that means the heater will be working soon?"

There was silence at the other end.

"Mr. Coeben?"

"Um, there's another problem."

* * *

"Scully?" Mulder rubbed his eyes and yawned. "What're you doing here?"

"Sorry to wake you, Mulder, but, ah, my landlord just told me that the building's heating system will be down for a few days, so I was wondering…"

"—If you could stay here?"

She looked up at him. "Is that alright with you?"

"Su casa mi casa, Scully," he smiled tiredly.

"Thank you," she replied as he led her in, feeling the warmth of his hand on the small of her back.

"You can take the bed, and I'll just sleep on 'ol reliable here," he told her hinting at the black leather sofa.

"You sure? It's pretty cold tonight."

-Was… that an invitation?-

"I'm trying to be chivalrous here, Scully."

"Mr. Macho Man, right?"

"That's my name."

She gave him a small smile.

Mulder then placed her suitcase over to the side, and when he turned back around, she had shed her overcoat which was now placed neatly on the edge of the bed. He also found her wearing only her signature silk pajamas. He swallowed hard as his eyes roamed over the spectacle. Not only was her attire appealing as it clung to her body in all the right places, but just the sight of his partner, a beautiful woman, getting into _his_ bed made his imagination run rampant.

"Mulder, you okay?"

He jumped at the sound of her voice in the quiet of his apartment. "Oh, um, yeah, I'm good, I'm good," he reassured her. "I'm just going to go to the bathroom real quick."

She eyed him curiously. Lately, Mulder's actions had become different. The proximity of where he would stand when they would be speaking was closer, the casual touches and friendly caresses seemed to linger, and his teasing sexual innuendos had become more frequent. Then there was the time when he supposedly confessed his deeper secrets to her at the hospital, but she could safely assume that it was the medical treatment he was receiving that influenced him.

In the bathroom, Mulder tried to calm himself down. In his mind, he tried to imagine anything ugly, his great-grandmother's untrimmed toenails, a praying mantis, a fat man in a speedo, Skinner in a tutu… That one did the trick. Turning on the faucet, he leaned over the sink, and splashed the cool water on his face. He then grabbed the white cotton towel next to him and wiped his face dry.

When he walked out of the bathroom, he noticed Scully giving him her 'look'. "Sweet dreams, Scully."

"Goodnight, Mulder," she said as she watched him retreat to the other room.

* * *

Mulder was constantly tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable spot. He couldn't sleep; it almost seemed impossible. Not to mention that he was freezing cold. The Indian-style blanket was not helping, and it didn't exactly reach all the way to his toes. He would kick the blanket downward to cover his extremities, but then his upper half would become cold; thus, he would pull the blanket up to his chest, but his sock-covered feet would freeze. It was almost like playing tug-of-war. Finally, after wasted minutes of trying to gain a state of contentment, he pulled the whole blanket off of him, and finally decided to accept Scully's invitation.

Quietly, he entered, careful to not wake his sleeping partner, and shut the door behind him. In the dark, all he could discern was the light of his alarm clock and Scully underneath the covers. When he reached the bed, he stopped. His hazel eyes traveled across her delicate features and studied them, memorized them, loved them. Unknowingly, he reached out to caress her soft skin like so many times before, tracing her cheek and her jaw line. It was intoxicating when he touched her like this, sweet and innocent. Even the steady rhythm of her breathing was mesmerizing.

Scully awoke to a dip in the bed and a sudden feeling of additional body heat enveloping her. She opened her eyes and found Mulder making himself comfortable and wrapping himself around her. At first, she felt alarmed by the sudden closeness, but she knew that this was what she wanted. This was just another step closer.

"…Mulder?"

"Sorry, Scully, I didn't mean to wake you. My feet were cold," he told her as he pulled her closer to his body, "and that damn blanket of mine is not as warm as you."

She rolled her eyes. "So, I'm guessing Mr. Macho Man wasn't as macho as he thought he was."

He chuckled in response.

Here he now was, in the same bed with the woman he loved and embracing her as if they were a married couple. His heart had been racing madly ever since he stepped foot in the room and now, as he was pressed up against her, he felt like his heart was going to burst. Her familiar scent wafted through his senses and he regretted saying that her perfume wasn't his favorite.

"You wanna know something weird?"

"Other than the fact that we're still alive?"

He snorted at her remark. "Well, I was just going to say that I find it funny how many people don't know that there is no such thing as 'cold' and that it's just a word that we use to refer to the absence of heat."

She remained silent for a moment or two before responding. "Yeah, I guess that is a little weird."

He let out a deep breath and pulled her closer. "Y'know there are a lot of things that a lot of people don't know."

Slowly, Scully could feel herself drifting into a dreamlike state. The body heat Mulder was emitting was wonderful and soothing to her aching muscles. It was different to be in such a position, but it was nice. "…Like what?"

"Like, ah, in Monopoly, the orange streets are the best property. Wearing rubber gloves could save you from lightening. …Jimi Hendrix pretended that he was gay so that he wouldn't have to serve in the army—."

"Wait, what?"

"I know that's exactly what I thought."

Scully turned over to face him. "Mulder, how—?"

He cut her off. "Let's just say I have a lot of time on my hands."

She eyed him and then settled back against his body. "It really makes me

wonder what goes on in that head of yours."

He laughed quietly, wondering the same thing.

When he felt her body slacken against him and her breathing had become slow and deep, his eyes turned up toward the ceiling. He tried to imagine them in a different place where they could somehow slow down and live life at a leisurely pace if only for tonight. She wouldn't have to worry about her family, the X-Files and searching for the truth, and, hell, how many calories her non-fat tofutti rice creamsicle had. He would love to give her that peace of mind.

He let out a deep breath. "Oh the things you'd learn, Scully," he said in a voice barely above a whisper as he moved an errant strand away from her face. Slowly, he closed his eyes, reveling in this one rare moment.

"…Like how much you really mean to me and how much I depend on you for strength… Even the hope I have that," he paused, "one day, I will be able to help you find your place in this world." He rested his chin against the top of her head and whispered, "Scully, I could only hope and pray that you know that I want to give you so much more than this."

"…More than what?"

He jumped slightly at the sudden sound of her voice. "You're awake."

She slowly moved herself up to where she could be at eyelevel with him. She needed to see him; she wanted to know. "I heard everything, Mulder," she whispered.

He avoided her gaze, afraid that if he looked at her, she would see.

"What is it that you want to give me?"

He wasn't expecting this to happen at all. He wasn't expecting to face _this_ tonight. He could feel the panic rise in him, but the sincerity and gentleness of her words quieted his scattered emotions. He realized that there was no more running now. It was just him and her.

"Scully, I want to give you everything, but I know that I can't. You deserve a life without fear and the constant threat of danger. Without the X-Files, you could be so much happier."

She wanted to cry. She knew that Mulder cared for her deeply and that he would go to the ends of the earth to save her, but to hear him say those words broke her heart.

"But that would be a life without you."

Taken aback, Mulder looked straight into her eyes. "Scully-"

"No, Mulder, I don't want what everyone else wants. Can't you see that? If I did, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be here with you, and you know that."

He couldn't respond. He wasn't even sure of what to say or even what to do.

She continued, "As much as you want the best for me, I already have it. And it's being here, standing beside you and the X-Files," she gently placed her hand against the side of his face, her thumb running over the slight stubble on his jaw. "…This is what I want."

Mulder took her hand and put his lips against the backside of her hand. "Then we both want the same thing."

Scully could feel the tears start to form at the corners of her eyes. A single tear slid down her cheek, and Mulder reached up and wiped it away. He then pulled her to him and softly kissed her.

_CASE CLOSED: MARCH 04, 2007_

_**The X-Files and its characters © 1013 Productions, Chris Carter, and FOX**_


End file.
